My original plan for my twenties was to spend a decade traveling the world, drinking wine, tasting chocolate, and writing books.
Instead, I dropped out of college (twice), met a boy in choir and fell in love, got married, and got pregnant. Mostly in that order.
To be fair, I would have been a terrible traveling weirdo. There are lots of reasons for this, not the least of these being that I have a terrific phobia of flying insects and animals, and also that I really appreciate having a bed and, you know, utilities.
Also I kind of don’t like people.
I have had a lot of wine in the last 6 years. And tasted a lot of chocolate. So at least I have that.
Today, I teach a classroom of toddlers. I love my job, but I always cringe when people ask me what I do for a living, because their reaction is always like watching a car accident in slo-mo. And then when they get their face screwed back on, they always smile and say something like, “Oh…. GOD. Are you…. OKAY?” And in their brain they are thinking, “How fast can I run away without being rude? Does it really matter if I’m rude? I am obviously talking to a crazy person.”
When I’m not brain-washing the next generation to be a bunch of tree-hugging hippies, I spend my off-time being married to my husband, who is studying to be a chef. We had this fantastic plan– dated for several years, engaged for 18 months, got married in May and planned to both be *finally* graduated from college in two years, pay off debt for three more, and then start having kids.We were going to be just oh-so cute, and oh-so normal, and by the time our kids were old enough to wonder, we’d have all those crazy terrible decisions we made in our twenties neatly swept under the rug.
But then, just a few weeks after the honeymoon, on a whim, I went to the drug store and took a pregnancy test. And guess what? I went back to that drug store and bought a whole lot of ice cream that night. Then I cleaned our tiny, shitty apartment, in the hopes that my BRAND NEW HUSBAND would come home and say something like, “Wow, honey. This apartment looks so nice– you know… this really has me thinking. Maybe we ARE ready to have some kids, what do you think?” And then I could swoop in, smile with all my teeth, and say, “Way ahead of you honey, all ready got the dough rising.” And hand him a martini or something, and then he would laugh and hug me, and the music would swell, freeze frame on our kiss, and the credits would roll.
Instead, he barely noticed the apartment was clean and proceeded to take his clothes off the minute he walked in the door– which is par for the course around here– and by the time he made it to the bedroom, where I was, I was crying. And then before I would tell him anything, I made him sit down and hold me. I think he thought that it was so that I wouldn’t be so scared to tell him– but really it was so that I could tackle him when he, inevitably, tried to run out the door, scooping up his clothes as he went. The trickiest part would be putting on his shoes on the fly, but North Dakota boys are scrappy.
But he didn’t run. He smiled at me, but I just kept right on crying. And then he said, “Honey– this is good news. Why are you so sad?” And I sputtered, “BECAUSE. YOU WON’T EVEN LET ME HAVE A DOG– AND NOW WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!”
That was months ago, though. I am now just a little under 37 weeks pregnant with a little girl that we call Skirty. We upgraded from our original shitty apartment to a slightly bigger shitty apartment, which is fantastic because now when I spend my weekends not cleaning, I have more places to hide things when people stop by.
I used to blog, back in the day when blogging was mostly about sharing with the world your very deep thoughts about your mostly mundane life. What I have learned in the last 8 years is that my very deep thoughts are not nearly as thought-provoking as my mundane life has turned out to be. My internet-perusal consists mostly of stalking artists that I wish were me, and reading their very deep thoughts… but my very deep thoughts these days are mostly about when I get to sleep in with my husband, how much longer I have until I can get back to enjoying that wine and those chocolates, and how to find a way to retire in the next two weeks. Anyone have any ideas on that?